There on the floor, inches away from his face and illuminated barely in the dim light from the window, were the rusty jaws of an old bear trap. He’d missed it by luck alone, having jumped away from the wall rather than dropping straight down.
Decided to invest in a little home security after all, eh Jack? he thought. Not that a leg would be a high price to pay to get out of here.
Without the light of the lab to make his way by, the basement was almost pitch dark. Spencer moved carefully, going by touch and memory. He kept his feet low, testing each step for more traps. Spencer remembered the way well, just as he always remembered directions. The stairs were the third door on the left, which he counted by fingertips. He made his way up them, walking with his feet pressed up against the wall where the steps would squeak less. They didn’t squeak at all though, the house was utterly still.
He was surprised to find as he approached the top that there was illumination coming from the doorway. He peered through it to find himself in a kitchen. It was lit, though dimly. Not from the lights above, they were dark. In fact he couldn’t tell where the light was coming from, although he could see pretty well. Almost like the light from a full moon, but the kitchen had no windows.
It wasn’t like any kitchen he had seen before. It was both nicer and poorer than the ones he remembered. It looked like the kitchen a millionaire would have had back in his great grandparents time. Full of all kinds of old-timey fancy cookware he had never seen before, but nothing modern like a microwave. The room had a sense of disuse about it, but not dusty exactly. More like a display kitchen in a department store. Spencer suspected that the Hollow Men kept it clean of dust, even if no one ever cooked anything here.
Peeking out the door of the kitchen into the hallway he realized the whole house was lit up with the same ghostly light. Why this couldn’t be seen from the outside was as big a mystery as where the light itself was coming from. This was both a good thing and a bad thing. Finding his way would be easy now, but hiding from anybody would be mostly luck.
As he went down the hallway in what he was pretty sure was the direction of the front room, he took only cursory glances at the paintings on the wall. Some of people, some of demons, some of children playing in the shadows of ancient castles. There were a few small statues in alcoves, all of cherubs.
He followed a few other twists and turns, always careful to walk silently and to peek around the corner for occupants. Always careful to watch his back and keep an eye out for rooms to hide in if he needed to. Those rooms called out to what remained of his old curiosity. Peaks into them revealing hints at the unimagined treasures of the ages. Spencer wondered if the specimens in the basement were the junk of the house, what magical items might exist on display throughout the mansion?
But he didn’t hesitate to explore, not once. Only moved slowly, cautiously towards his escape. The boy that had wanted to believe in magic now did, unquestionably. It was no longer a curiosity, just another weapon of Smiling Jack.
Even moving slowly, it was less than five minutes before he found exactly what he wanted. The main room, with the grand staircase sweeping off to either side in a crowded embrace. The massive and dominating front doors waiting in silent accusation of his taking the long way around. He ached to make a run for it, the shining jet-black wood of the stairs pulling like a magnet. But forced himself to be even more careful still. Checking around corners and moving with well practiced stealth.
And yet even after peeking at the room as best he could, there was no way to be sure no one was waiting above. No way to sneak through it. No direct light source meant no shadows to move between. He would be completely exposed during his entire trip across the room and up the sweeping staircase.
Faced with no better alternative, he went for it. He moved fast but sure, short bone spear in his hand and ready as always. Across the black wood floor, across the long Persian rug with it’s faded threads depicting children in sun drenched fields, up the black stairs. And towards the door of the long hallway. Close, so close he came.
And then the front door opened.
Spencer froze, his instincts those of the mouse in the field, hoping by holding still he wouldn’t be seen even though he was right in the open. The click of claws on wood told Spencer who it was even before the figure crossed into view. Mr. Buttons, plain as day.
Mr. Buttons walked in only a few steps before it stopped. As if it could sense him, it looked right up at Spencer. The two stood for a moment, just staring at each other. Spencer looking down into those two dead black buttons, and the buttons looking right back up at him. Spencer had a surreal moment where he thought they were both feeling the exact same thing, but didn’t know what that feeling was exactly.
He wasn’t sure which one of them broke the spell first. Just a twitch from either would have been enough. At almost the same moment Spencer began to run, and Mr. Buttons dropped to all fours and began to chase him.
Spencer was only a couple feet from the long hallway, and was inside of it and sprinting in a flash, slamming the door behind him. He dodged and jumped over toys in the false twilight, knowing one stumble and he was dead. Probably was dead anyway. He saw the murals on the wall fly by him, realizing now that the children in the pictures weren’t playing with the forest animals, they were being played with by them. Their smiles and yells of joy were grimaces of fear and screams of terror.
Mr. Buttons charged through the door behind him, knocking it almost off its hinges with a roar that shook the rafters. One glance back was enough to see that the beast had torn its mouth stitches open, revealing the razor sharp fangs that so easily tore flesh. It was gaining on Spencer already, crashing through anything in the way.
The hallway seemed to grow even longer in front of Spencer as he flung himself down the length of it. He could barely feel his feet touching the floor, he felt like he was flying. And yet the crashing behind him grew closer and closer.
Just a little further, just a little further…
He dropped his bone spear, thinking only that he would need his hands free to open the Great Closet before him. It looked so simple. No giant panels carved with ancient spells. No arcs of electricity coming off of exotic machines. Just a plain closet door, the center of his entire world.
He hit it going too fast to stop, and was yanking it open even as he was bouncing off the wall. He flung himself into the darkness with only a halfhearted attempt to shut the door behind him. Praying without words that he wouldn’t hit a flat wall at the back of the closet.
He didn’t. Instead he kept running. Finding his way and even moving in a manner he couldn’t quite identify. Strange yet familiar from his last trip through. Like there was no question he knew where he was going and how to get there, even if he couldn’t say where he was. He saw a light ahead, only slightly brighter than the liquid dark through which he moved.
Spencer ran out of a doorway and slammed the door behind him, pressing his body against it as hard as he could. It was only a heartbeat before something slammed against the door, almost knocking him away. He held the doorknob in place while hands on the other side tried to open it. He knew with a sinking feeling that he couldn’t hold the doorknob against hands with that kind of strength.
And yet soon he realized he had an advantage because they weren’t hands, they were claws. He heard them clicking against the knob on the other side and felt them sliding against it, hot nails on cool bronze. Mr. Buttons couldn’t get a grip, couldn’t grab something it couldn’t dig its claws into. Bears didn’t have opposable thumbs.